


The One Where They Spin the Bottle

by manycoloureddays



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Best Friendship the Fic, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Spin the Bottle, like lots and lots of different types of kissing, pennywise happened but they keep their memories i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: He’s lying with his head on Ben’s stomach, his feet in Richie’s lap, his hand curled around Mike’s wrist, while Mike’s other hand runs through Stan’s curls. Bev and Bill are sitting either side of Richie, the three of them passing a joint back and forth between them, pressed close, shoulder to shoulder. The seven of them all together, inextricable. As it should be.





	The One Where They Spin the Bottle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heroic_pants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroic_pants/gifts).

> for the prompt: any losers + spin the bottle
> 
> because i am me I chose all of the losers + spin the bottle, and who can resist platonic kisses and romantic kisses and best friends who love each other deeply?

It’s all Bill’s fault. 

They’re sprawled out around the Denbrough’s basement; all of them on the floor, lying so they're touching each other, even though he could have sworn some of them started out on the ratty old couch. Bev and Stan and Mike he thinks. 

He’s lying with his head on Ben’s stomach, his feet in Richie’s lap, his hand curled around Mike’s wrist, while Mike’s other hand runs through Stan’s curls. Bev and Bill are sitting either side of Richie, the three of them passing a joint back and forth between them, pressed close, shoulder to shoulder. The seven of them all together, inextricable. As it should be. 

Eddie’s comfortable, could fall asleep if he wanted to, even though it’s stuffy down here and they spent their morning goofing around the Barrens, embracing the heat. He can definitely feel a little sunburn on the back of his neck. 

It’s the second week of summer after their first year away at college, all of them spread across the country most of the year now, and it’s nice, just being together like this. 

He’s missed them all a stupid amount. 

They write sometimes, call less than that, but college is busy, and there’s no comparison to this. To Ben’s fingers running through his hair. To being able to lift his head and catch Richie’s eye when he knows they’re both laughing about the same thing, Richie running his hand up his calf and squeezing his knee. To being able to share a Look with Stan. To being able to touch people. 

God, he’s missed touching people. He’s missed feeling comfortable enough to touch people. He relaxes further into it. Hums along to The Clash record that Richie put on. Everything is exactly as it should be, and then Bill passes the joint to Stan and opens his stupid mouth. 

‘You know w-what w-we should do?’ There’s a collective questioning noise. ‘We should p-play a game. Never Have I Ever. Truth or D-dare. Spin the b-b-bottle.’ 

Eddie lifts himself up a little, weight resting on his elbows instead of on Ben, and raises his eyebrows. Stan looks confused too, and Richie looks wary, but the others all seem agreeable, if not enthusiastic. 

‘C’mon, g-guys. It d-doesn’t have to b-be a big d-deal. It’s just us.’

Bev shrugs. ‘I’m not playing Truth or Dare with Richie Ever Again. Not after last time.’ She flicks Richie’s ear just as he’s opening his mouth, probably to say something stupid about being the resident Truth or Dare champion. ‘But I’m up for a game.’

‘Yeah, as long as it isn’t Truth or Dare,’ Stan says, and Eddie glares at him.  _ Traitor _ . 

‘Oh really?’ Richie’s grinning wide, wriggling his eyebrows at Stan. ‘You not going to flake or fail out of Never Have I Ever, Staniel?’

Stan flips him off, grinning back. ‘It’s been a year, Tozier. I think I could give you a run for your money.’

Richie laughs, a loud burst, like it’s been shocked out of him, and his grin is so fond it makes Eddie’s teeth hurt. ‘That’s my boy!’ He crows, leaning forward with his palm up for Stan to hit. 

They go back and forth for a bit, Eddie with his fingers crossed for Never Have I Ever, because despite how comfortable he is wrapped up in his friends, his other option is kissing at least one of them and he is not sure how he feels about that. It’s Mike that casts the deciding vote. 

‘Never have I ever played spin the bottle.’ Just like that it’s decided. They all sit up and start arranging themselves in something more circular. Bill goes upstairs to find a bottle.

He must still be looking a little freaked, because Bev catches his eye and says, quietly, so the others can pretend not to hear her, ‘if you don’t want to ..?’

Eddie shakes his head. ‘As long as there’s no rule that it has to be a kiss on the mouth, I think I’ll be okay.’

And because his friends are the best, even when they’re the worst, not one of them protests his rule. Richie sits down next to him, not that there has even been, nor will there ever be, a question of that, and slings an arm across his shoulders. Eddie leans into him, resting his head against Richie’s neck. 

Richie giggles. ‘Your hair’s tickling my nose, dude.’ Instead of moving away, he nuzzles his nose further into Eddie’s hair. ‘It’s got long.’

Eddie shrugs, small enough not to dislodge Richie’s arm. ‘Ma wasn’t around to tell me to cut it. I think I like it longer.’ He looks up in time to catch Richie, soft and fond. 

‘It looks good, Spaghetti.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Eddie says through an unconvincing smile. 

He shoves Richie this time moving with enough force to dislodge him. Richie falls dramatically into Bev, who doesn’t blink, doesn’t even look up from where she’s talking to Mike about a book they’ve both been reading, just reaches up to steady him. 

Then Bill’s back, and there’s an empty wine bottle being placed in the middle of their circle, and Eddie is back to worried. 

When none of them make a move towards the bottle, Bev rolls her eyes and sighs exaggeratedly. 

Leaning forward and smirking at the boys around her, she says, ‘guess I’m always going to be first, huh?’ and spins the bottle. 

Eddie watches it spin and sends out a plea to the universe.  _ Not me, not me, please not me first _ . 

It lands on him. Because of course it does. Because the universe hates him. He would like to blame the universe, but then there’s a wolf whistle from the other side of the circle and he looks up to see Bill.  _ Ah _ , he thinks to himself,  _ that’s right. It’s all Bill’s fault. _

Bev shuffles into the circle and beckons for Eddie. He doesn’t want to make this harder for himself, or uncomfortable for the others, so he moves towards her, grimacing. She holds out her hand, and because it’s Bev, he takes it. She squeezes, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. Once they’re kneeling knee to knee, she leans closer to him and presses a firm, warm kiss to his forehead. 

He watches her as she pulls back, her eyes are warm and full of laughter, and he’s seen her nearly every day for two weeks but he’s been missing her for months and months. Hasn’t seen her except for one afternoon over Christmas, when they’d overlapped in Derry for a weekend and they’d shared two milkshakes at the diner because they both liked chocolate and strawberry and never wanted to choose. So he leans up now and presses his own kiss her forehead. 

When he sits back on his heels, her smile is toothier. ‘Love you too, Eddie.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m very lovable,’ he grumbles. He knows he’s blushing. He scoots back to his spot next to Richie and sticks a finger in his face. ‘And don’t you start!’

Richie, who was definitely about to make a crack about how lovable Eddie is, or possibly about how he got it from his mother, laughs, his hands up as if to say,  _ who? Me? _

‘It’s your turn, Eddie,’ Ben says, and Eddie groans. They all laugh at him, as he leans forward and spins.

He watches the bottle. Feels his stomach flip when it whirls past Richie. He doesn’t know if he wanted it to stop or desperately did not want it to stop. What would be better, kissing Richie in front of a room full of people who know him better than anyone else in the world, most of whom know about his crush, and some who told him to do something about it more than once, or chickening out and kissing his cheek, his forehead, the back of his hand like he’s in a Jane Austen novel. 

The bottle lands on Bill, and that feels, somehow, like the universe is flipping him off.  _ You don’t want to kiss the boy you’ve been in love with probably since you were eleven, but definitely since you were thirteen? Fine, kiss the first boy you ever had a crush on. Is this better? Is this what you wanted Eddie? _ To which Eddie would like to respond,  _ fuck you, universe _ . 

Once again, Eddie is the second one to crawl into the circle. Bill is waiting for him, his usual cocksure self. Eddie jabs him in the gut just to wipe the stupid grin off his face. 

‘So, do you want another forehead kiss, or are you ready for something better?’ Bill asks.

Eddie, who still has not learned how not to talk back when people try to get a rise out of him, shoots back, ‘You think you can give me better, huh Billy? I’d like to see you try.’ 

He immediately wants to slap himself, just bury his face in his palm and be done with it, but Bill is too quick. He takes Eddie’s face in both hands, ducking in closer. 

‘Is this okay?’ And that is so Bill, that quick change from ridiculous bravado to kindness, that Eddie just rolls his eyes, all fondness, and nods. ‘Cool.’

Bill kisses him, soft but sure. For all it’s close-lipped and chaste, there’s a tenderness that Eddie was not expecting. Bill strokes a thumb across Eddie’s cheek and pulls back. His smile is softer now.

Eddie is definitely blushing. He smiles back, grins when Bill meets his eye, and nudges his shoulder with his knuckles. 

‘Thanks, Big Bill. Eight year old me is flipping out right now.’ Bill furrows his brow, and Eddie shrugs,  _ in for a penny… _ ‘Yeah, you were definitely my first crush.’

Richie squawks, and Bev sings out, ‘we really are twins!’, and Bill, Bill blushes. Eddie giggles. He taps Bill’s cheek in a gesture that reminds him horribly of his aunts. 

‘Don’t worry, I’ve been over it for years.’

‘Sh-shut up, Eddie,’ Bill laughs. 

And, alright, maybe this game isn’t so terrible after all.

Eddie sits back in the circle and lets himself enjoy it. He plucks Richie’s beer out of his hand and takes a sip, not bothering to wipe the can before he does. He watches Richie watch him out of the corner of his eye and smiles to himself. 

Bill spins and the bottle lands on Mike  — ‘This should be interesting’, Richie whispers into Eddie’s hair, taking his beer back, but staying close, pressed up against Eddie’s side — and Eddie watches Mike rubs his palms on his shorts before joining Bill. They stare at each other for longer than either of Eddie’s kisses lasted. Eddie can’t see Mike’s face from this angle, can just see the nervous tension in his shoulders, but Bill’s eyes dart over to Stan, who is leaning forward, face intent. 

The kiss is soft, until it isn’t, Bill clambering into Mike’s lap, Mike’s grip on Bill’s hips tight. 

Eddie turns to Richie, eyebrow raised, but finds Richie looking not at Bill and Mike, but at Stan. Eddie follows his gaze. Stan’s lip in caught in his teeth, but he doesn’t look worried or hurt, he looks. He looks like he’s trying to work out a particularly difficult equation actually. Eddie turns back to Richie, who seems satisfied. 

Eddie doesn’t know much about what’s going on with Stan and Mike, but he and Bill are both in New York, and he’s had many lunches and dinners and nights out diverted by Bill’s “wonderings” about Stan and Mike. He’s also spent a number of his phone calls with Richie since spring break talking about how Stan needs to stop talking to Richie about his ‘soap opera love life and just talk to the fucking people he wants to fuck’. 

Maybe Bill’s Spin the Bottle plan wasn’t concocted with the sole aim of annoying Eddie. Maybe.

Mike and Bill are still kissing, and Stan looks about to combust, and Eddie is wondering if he should say something, when Ben coughs significantly. When that doesn’t work, Bev grabs an ice cube out of her water and leans over to put it down the back of Bill’s shirt. It works a treat. 

‘The fuck, Bev?’ Bill squeaks, before he and Mike have the decency to look sheepish. 

When Mike’s turn lands on Stan, Bev holds another ice cube up threateningly and says, ‘you get twenty seconds. Thirty, if I’m feeling generous’. 

Stan flips her off. He catches Bill’s hand on his way back to his spot, leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then he’s mirroring the Bill of a few minutes ago and climbing Mike like he’s a goddamn tree. Mike’s fingers are in Stan’s curls, and Eddie has had tunnel vision since he realised that the swoopy, butterflies feeling he got in his stomach was Richie-related and didn’t just happen anytime anyone touched him, but watching Mike and Stan kiss he is forced to admit that his friends are really fucking hot. 

He takes another swig of Richie’s beer, and then decides to finish it, because he can. 

‘Jealous, Eds?’ Richie whispers, his hand finding its way into Eddie’s curls. ‘Looks like Mike’s the one to kiss.’

‘Nah.’

‘Not even a little? It looks like you’re enjoying the view.’ There’s something in his tone, something wistful that he hears almost every time they talk on the phone, but Eddie isn’t bothered by it. He just pushes back into Richie’s hand where it’s scratching the base of his skull. 

‘I can enjoy the view and not be jealous. ‘Sides, no one’s enjoying the view as much as Bill.’ 

Richie murmurs in agreement. His fingers get caught in a tangle in Eddie’s hair, and when he tugs Eddie feels himself go boneless. 

‘Jesus.’ Richie tugs again. ‘You’re like a cat.’

Eddie is about to ask him something  — h e’s not sure what, just knows that words are about to come pouring out any second  — when Bev calls time, and Eddie’s focus is drawn back to the circle. 

Stan’s first spin lands on Bev, who says with the confidence of the only person who cares about the rules of a stupid party game that they aren’t doing double turns until everyone’s had a kiss. Stan’s second spin lands on Richie, and Eddie almost whines when he pulls his hand away and shuffles into the circle. Almost. He has a little self control left. 

He doesn’t quite stop himself from pouting though, and Bev leans over to poke his side just so she can wink at him. Eddie sticks out his tongue. 

Stan and Richie kneel facing each other, and Eddie can tell they’re having one of their silent conversations but he’s never learned how to decrypt them. It used to bother him, when they were younger. Partly because of his whole Richie situation, but mostly because  _ he _ was supposed to be Richie’s best friend. It was stupid, because all of the losers were best friends, and just because Eddie and Richie became EddieandRichie did not mean that Richie was not allowed to have other best friends. It wasn’t really until they’d started back at school after that summer, the summer that changed everything, and he saw the way Richie and Stan were able to slow each other down with a look, the way Richie always seemed to know how much attention to give Stan’s worry, the way Stan always knew the right thing to say to bring Richie back to himself, that Eddie got it. Stan and Richie were first best friends, they were brothers. And Eddie had been starting to realise that he really did not want to be Richie’s brother. 

Now, even though he still doesn’t understand whatever weird language Stan and Richie have, he knows them well enough to know they’re trying to figure out how to do this without making it weird. 

It only lasts a second before Richie pounces, pressing Stan back into the carpet and dotting kisses all over his face. He kisses Stan’s eyebrows, his chin, his forehead and cheeks, the tip of his nose, and Stan is rolling on the floor underneath him, giggling. 

Satisfied that Stan has been kissed enough, Richie sits back and helps him up, both of them collapsing on each other, laughing. 

‘You’re such a shit, Rich,’ Stan manages to say through his laughter. 

‘You love it.’ 

Stan snorts and ruffles Richie’s hair. 

Richie picks the bottle up and rubs it like it’s a magic lamp. ‘Are you ready, Benny boy?’ 

Ben laughs and moves towards the circle but Richie holds up a hand. 

‘No, no, this is Spin the Bottle, not kiss whichever friend hasn’t been kissed. We might be playing by Miss Marsh’s rules, but the spinning of the bottle is a sacred rite.’ 

It takes Richie fifteen spins to get the bottle to land on Ben, and even then he seems sceptical, convinced the bottle is pointing not at Ben’s knee, but at the space in between Ben and Stan. 

Ben sighs, put upon, the way he mastered last year when Eddie and Richie would crash his library study sessions and he needed a quiet and polite way to tell them to please fuck the fuck off. 

‘Fine, fine. I know you want some of this,’ Richie sweeps his arm in front of him, before waving Ben forward. 

Ben leans in and kisses Richie on the nose. Not to be out done, Richie kisses Ben on the nose with a lot more wet noises than Eddie thinks are strictly necessary, but Ben just laughs. 

Richie crawls back across the floor, and curls up around him, his left arm braced beside Eddie, propping him up, his chin resting on Eddie’s shoulder so they’re almost cheek to cheek. 

They spin the bottle a few more times, but Eddie doesn’t really pay attention, too focused on the millimetre of space between his face and Richie’s. Ben definitely kisses Mike, and he thinks Bev kisses Stan, but all of their interest sort of fizzles out, and they go back to drinking and lounging and talking about their plans for the rest of the summer. 

Mike invites them over tomorrow, says if they bring some of the food, he’ll barbecue for them. Someone mentions a road trip: two cars, a glove box full of mixtapes, and somewhere with an ocean. He’s pretty sure he agrees to go, makes a mental note to find the right time to tell his mother. Not that she gets much say in what he does these days. That was his condition, when he agreed to stay at her house this summer instead of staying at one of his friends’ places. 

Eventually the hot day and the beer and Richie’s stupidly big hand in his hair catch up to him, and Eddie hears Richie say quietly to Bev? Bill? ‘I’m going to take him home. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.’ And then he’s being tugged to his feet, and the change of altitude brings him close enough to wakefulness that he can say goodbye to his friends, and walk up the stairs under his own steam. 

He and Richie walk home; Richie overshooting his street so he can walk Eddie to his door like he always does. Their arms are swinging at their sides, their hands almost brushing, and Eddie is sick of the space between them. How is it that today they’ve both kissed two people, and somehow the only people in their group they missed out on are Mike and each other? 

Eddie screws up his courage and closes the distance. 

Richie stumbles when he takes his hand, but he rights himself quickly, and their arms still swing between them. 

They don’t talk. Eddie finds himself enjoying the quiet. 

When they reach the end of Eddie’s street instead of walking up to his house and saying goodnight, walking up the stairs so he can miss Richie until he sees him tomorrow — or until he sneaks in Eddie’s window — instead of doing what he’s done every day of the summer, and every day of his life for four years before that, he tugs Richie under the enormous tree by the entrance of the small park on the corner. 

‘Eds?’ Richie’s voice has that weird wistful tone again and Eddie can’t stand it anymore.

‘CanIkissyou?’ He asks so fast he’s not sure Richie will be able to parse the words. 

‘What?’

‘Can I kiss you?’ 

Richie’s face does something complicated, and Eddie knows this one. Knows that even if Stan could deceipher it this face is for Eddie alone. This face is wary and careful and a little bit scared, but mostly it’s just hopeful. There’s a full blown smile waiting to happen.

Richie nods. Says, ‘please’. 

It makes Eddie’s knees wobble, that please. 

And Eddie is really really glad this didn’t happen in Bill’s basement, with all their friends, because of some bottle. Because there’s no one to call time after he’s stepped into Richie’s space and pressed their lips together, after Richie’s caught his waist and dragged him impossibly closer, after he’s licked Richie’s bottom lip and swallowed the moan that follows. 

They pull apart slowly, when their need for air is suddenly more than theoretical, but they don’t go far. Richie bent forward so their foreheads can rest together, so they can stay breathing the same air. 

‘I’ve wanted to do that forever,’ Eddie says, and Richie sighs, presses a kiss to Eddie’s nose, to his top lip, pulls back far enough so he can look Eddie right in the eye. 

‘Me too. Eds, me too. Forever.’ 

Eddie is powerless to do anything besides lean in and kiss him again. 


End file.
